Dreamscape
by Cordite Quill
Summary: Sarah's dreams have always been particularly vivid. But one day, the goblins crash land in her dreamscape, followed closely by a certain king. What will happen now that the Goblin King can visit her dreams? Mayhem and romance, of course!
1. A Dream of the Desert and a Bikini

**Chapter One: A Dream of the Desert and a Bikini**

Sarah sat in a neon orange kiddie pool with her legs dangling out the sides. Around her were the glorious views of the Grand Canyon. She was wearing a bikini, definitely not her usual swimwear of choice—Sarah was usually a normal one-piece type of girl. The water was the perfect temperature, and just deep enough that it covered her lap. Next to her was a jar of soapy water and a bubble wand which she blew bubbles from. She wore purple glam lip-shaped glasses, and when she licked her lips, she tasted grape lip gloss.

Lounging back further, the kiddie pool's rubber wall squeaked, and she smiled. She felt true, joyous emotions engulf her. No worries, and the view was beautiful. She felt child-like wonder as she watched soapy bubbles float away from her, carried on a warm breeze. They reflected the many hues of the Grand Canyon: rust reds, earth oranges, umbers, and deep purples. Lazily, she reached out a hand and popped one of the bubbles.

There were no bird calls, no bugs chirping. In any other circumstance, this would have been creepy, but it was a dream and she knew it as such. Sarah had always had vivid dreams of odd things—last week, she'd dreamt she was riding an elephant in an elaborate acrobat's costume and a peacock feather sticking out of her pulled back hair. However, Sarah always knew she was dreaming and could go with the flow, enjoy the strangeness, and wake up relatively calm. Nightmares were difficult, no matter how much she _knew_ she was dreaming, she always was afraid and woke with her heart pounding. But, luckily, this wasn't a nightmare. Her last nightmare had been two days after Dan broke up with her. She'd dreamed a swarm of bees had chased her, even after she'd climbed into her car to escape them. One of the bees had managed to shimmy into the car through the air conditioning vents and stung her hand. She woken with her hand still throbbing and a scream trapped in her throat.

Sarah shook her head, dislodging the memory. Was it normal to ponder nightmares and dreams while having one? Well, she'd always been like this…ever since she was fifteen her awareness of dreams had grown.

Sarah splashed a little in the water, enjoying the sensation of the hot breeze drying the moisture on her skin. She dipped the bubble wand into the soapy solution and brought it to her lips. Mmm, the lip gloss even smelled of grapes. Blowing gently and carefully, she managed to produce a big bubble which disengaged from the wand and floated lazily away. She watched it, smiling, and then noticed a dot reflected in its surface. The dot was growing, and was soon joined by another.

Sarah leaned forward, frowning. The dots steadily grew bigger in the bubble's surface: first the size of a speck of dust, then a pencil eraser, then a dime. And then she heard howling.

"_YAAAAAA—WAAAAAH—ARGH!_" The howling was muffled by distance, but the direction was clear. Sarah looked up, just in time to see four shapes falling from the sky. With pitiful yelps, they landed in the desert landscape that peppered the canyon just behind her. Sarah winced. She'd been to the Grand Canyon as a girl once, and she remembered that most plants in the desert were spiny, thorny, rough, uninviting, or some combination thereof.

After a moment's hesitation, and listening to the shouts and rustling that came from the plants, Sarah stood from the water and put the bubble wand back in the jar.

"Hello?" she called, hesitantly, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head and squinting into the thicket of plants. Yup, some of them looked distinctly cactus-like. She took a few steps closer, even though the rough stone was almost unpleasantly warm under her feet. She wished she had flip-flops, but Sarah had never been able to conjure up anything in her dreams; she was always just along for the ride.

"Are you okay?" Sarah called. She didn't want to go into that mess of thorny plants, but luckily she didn't have to. She heard a commotion in the foliage.

"Gets off my toe!"

"You fell on _me_!"

"OW! I gots thorns in my butt!"

"Yeah? Well I gots thorns in _my _butt!"

Then there was a scuffling noise, followed by angry grunts and a few "ow!"s before, suddenly, a goblin rolled out of the thicket. He stopped on his stomach, his butt in the air, and there were indeed thorns sticking out of it. The goblin had huge ears, one pierced with a small gold ring, and bug eyes. It was strangely cute wriggling on the ground.

"Don't move too much," Sarah said, pointing to the thorns as she crouched by him, "those look painful."

The goblin froze and looked over his shoulder. His bug eyes widened further and he scrambled to his feet. He looked around, confused. Behind him, another goblin limped out from the thicket, pulling thorns from his arm. He had brownish-green hued skin and a sauté pan on his head.

"Where are we?" he asked, looking around. "Is this Kansas? Why's everything so _thorny?_"

"Because it's Arizona," Sarah said. "What are you guys doing in my dream, anyway?"

"_Your_ dream?" the bug-eyed goblin asked, scratching his head. "We just tryin' to get away from Boss Man. How ya doin' Lady?"

"Oh…good. You remember me, then?" Sarah asked, smiling despite herself. It had been a while since she'd run the Labyrinth at fifteen and she had wondered, at different moments in her life, if her friends still remembered her. She still considered those thirteen hours some of the most important in her life.

"'Course!" the sauté pan goblin said. "After ya left, Boss Man started boggin' twice as much as usual."

Sarah frowned. "Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to get you guys in trouble or anything."

The goblins shrugged and the bug-eyed goblin said, "No worries, it was kinda interesting. Gave us more attention than he has in a while, plus everyone needs a good boggin' every once in a while—OW!" He winced as he pulled a thorn out of his butt.

"I don't know about that," Sarah said. "I've smelled the bog and I _definitely _don't need to smell it again." She paused. "Want help with the thorns?"

The goblin considered, trying to look at them over his shoulder, but he kept turning around and around fruitlessly. Finally, he turned his back to her and said, "I thinks so."

Sarah smiled and sat crossed legged, a more comfortable position, then drew the goblin near and leaned forward, about to grasp the first thorn.

"OW!" the goblin yelped.

"Um, I haven't done anything yet," Sarah said, gently. "Don't worry."

The goblin whimpered as Sarah grasped the first thorn and tugged it out. After that initial one, it was a little easier for him. Goblins seemed to have thick skins and while this meant the thorns were harder to pull out, it also meant the pain was dulled, too.

When she'd gotten the bigger thorns out, Sarah found it a little more challenging to grasp the smaller ones. She said, "I wish I could conjure stuff up in my dreams."

"Why?" the sauté pan goblin asked. He'd had no thorns on his butt—despite his earlier claims—and had already pulled out the few that had stuck in his arm. Now, he was licking the wounds with a very mottled, rough-looking tongue.

"Because a pair of tweezers would come in _really _handy right about now."

"What are tweezers?" the sauté pan goblin asked, probably because his friend was too busy closing his eyes and twitching at every tug.

"You know, a metal tool that pinches." Sarah pinched her index and thumb together to demonstrate.

"Oh, I can do _that,_" the sauté pan goblin said.

"Do what?" Sarah frowned, tugging out another thorn.

"Make stuff appear. You want tweezers? No problem!" The goblin clapped his hands together, then rubbed the palms as if he was warming himself beside a fire. His eyes crossed with concentration and his tongue peeked out between his lips. Suddenly, Sarah smelled brimstone and a moment later, something appeared in her hand.

"Ta da! Tweezers!" The goblin chortled.

Sarah frowned, holding up the nine inch long kitchen tongs. "I should have been more specific."

"Not tweezers?" the bug-eyed goblin asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Nope, these are tongs, for cooking." Sarah eyed them. "Pretty good ones, though; lockable."

"Okay, okay, lemme try again. This time, tweezers!" Again, the sauté pan goblin clapped his hands and rubbed them together, then crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. Sarah put down the tongs just in time for another object to appear in her hands.

"Tweezers?" the bug-eyed goblin asked, hopefully.

"Um, no…no, these are castanets," Sarah said, holding them up by the string attaching the two clam-shaped pieces together. "I'll just finish without tweezers."

She put the castanets aside, but when she glanced at the sauté pan goblin, he looked so crestfallen she couldn't help but say, "But you get an A for effort."

The goblin kicked a rock, letting it fall over the edge of the canyon. Sarah heard it ricochet off a cliff as it fell. "Sure," he said, morosely.

"No, really! Plus, castanets are fun, see?" Sarah picked up the castanets and held them so she could snap them together. _Clack-clack-clackclack-clack. _She built a rhythm, much to the goblins' delight. The sauté pan goblin even did a quick jig. The bug-eyed goblin tried to, but then remembered the thorns.

"OW! OW! OWOW! OW!" he yelped, following the rhythm.

"Okay, okay, one sec, don't move," Sarah said, handing the castanets to the sauté pan goblin, who eyed them with delicious glee and clacked them together a few times before pocketing them.

Sarah pulled out the last thorn and said, "What're your guys' names, anyway?"

The sauté pan goblin straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest. He said, "Me names Squibble."

"I don't have a name yet," the bug-eyed goblin said with a sigh.

"Well, that's terrible," Sarah said. "You must have a name. What do you call yourself? Or, what does the Goblin King call you?"

"Me call meself 'me' or, if feeling particularly poetic, 'I.' Boss Man calls me 'you' or, if _he's _feeling particularly poetic, 'underling' or 'pipsqueak.'"

Sarah frowned. "Well, those won't do. Why not name yourself something unique? Something no other goblin has as a name?"

"Yeah, like 'Thorn Butt'?" Squibble said, snickering.

The bug-eyed goblin shot him a glare, but then seemed to consider it. "Thorn Butt ain't bad," he finally said.

"Um, why not something like 'Thorny'?" Sarah suggested, quickly.

The goblin grinned. "Thorny ain't bad either!"

"Man, ya gots named by the Lady!" Squibble muttered.

Thorny grinned, looking particularly pleased.

Sarah opened her mouth to ask more when suddenly clouds rolled over her perfect blue sky, obscuring the sun. A wind picked up—not the nice, warm wind, but a cold one that reminded her she was barefoot and wearing only a bikini. Sarah shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. She looked at the sky. "What's happening?"

The goblins looked around, wild-eyed. "Boss Man found us! Oh noes! We forgot we was running!"

"Running? What are you talking—" Sarah stopped as a thin branch whizzed past her. She ducked, but it caught in her hair. With a curse, she tried to untangle it.

The goblins were panicking, running around in circles shouting things like "can't go now!" and "oh, he's gonna be so _mad_!"

Sarah managed to half-rip, half-untangle the branch from her hair and let it fly off over the edge of the canyon. She turned back to the goblins. They'd run toward the thicket. Suddenly, a cloud of glitter appeared between her and the goblins, and just like magic—well, it _was_ magic—there stood the Goblin King in all his black armored glory, with his back to her.

Sarah's eyes widened as she took in her old nemesis. He still had the same theatrical flair, apparently. His hair moved with the wind. The cloak he was wearing—which looked almost black, except when the light filtered through the clouds, then it gave off blue-green colors like a beetle's shell—billowed around him majestically and ominously. His hands were on his hips and he said, "Alright, you little blighters, you've led me on a merry chase but I've found you at last."

"Uh, Boss Man, we can explain," Squibble began.

"Oh, I'm sure you can. I bet you have a _wonderful_ explanation why you let your chickens into the throne room exactly fifteen minutes _after_ I made my proclamation of a chicken-free throne room!" the Goblin King raged. "What are you doing here, anyway? Were you trying to escape through dreamscapes again?"

"You mean this isn't Kansas?" Thorny asked, looking around startled.

"Kansas? Kansas tra la la! I'll show you bloody Kansas after I bog you for a _week!_" Jareth growled. He looked to the sides and Sarah took a sharp breath—one, thankfully, the Goblin King didn't hear over the wind—when she saw his face, even in profile. Oh boy, it really _was_ him. After a decade, here he was standing in front of her again. And from what she could tell, he looked exactly the same. Sarah self-consciously tipped her sunglasses back over her eyes.

"Where the devil are we, anyway?" Jareth said, still looking around, although he hadn't spotted her yet. "Whose dream is this?"

Well, that was her cue. Sarah mustered all her courage and cleared her throat before saying, "Hi Goblin King."

If she hadn't felt so nervous—she was pretty sure the butterflies that had hatched in her stomach in the last five minutes were now doing loop-the-loops and figure eights—she would have been amused by how still the Goblin King became when he heard her voice.

"We in Lady's dream," Thorny said, helpfully. "She pulled thorns out of my butt."

Jareth slowly pivoted around and Sarah looked him full in the face for the first time since she was fifteen. Unless dreams counted. Oh, but she was dreaming now. And yet, this was very different. Jareth tipped his head up slightly as he regarded her with a cool gaze. He said, "Really, Sarah? You shouldn't have."

"W-well, they did crash land—quite literally—into my dream."

"And even after that, you aided them? How generous of you." Jareth blinked, frowned as he noticed what she was wearing. Sarah blushed as his mismatched eyes widened slightly and a smirk graced his thin lips as his gaze swept over her. She self-consciously crossed her arms over her chest and glared back at him before remembering she was wearing the glam lip-shaped sunglasses.

"That's a new look for you," Jareth purred.

"Oh, don't even," Sarah said. "I was having a nice dream, minding my own business—"

"Dreaming about _what_, pray tell?" Jareth asked, coolly, again looking her over. She felt goosebumps along her arms and tried rubbing them away.

"Nothing devious, before you jump to conclusions. I was just taking a small dip," Sarah pointed to where her kiddie pool had been and was surprised to find it gone. The soapy bubble water had skittered close to the edge and with a feeling of dread, she went to it, picking the bottle up and righting it before glancing over the edge of the cliff. Before the vertigo could engulf her, she spied the kiddie pool about twenty feet down, stuck in a tree that was stubbornly growing out of the cliff's side.

"Oh great!" Sarah said, turning around and stomping back to Jareth, ignoring how stomping actually hurt her feet. "My pool's nose dived off the edge! You've ruined my dream!"

Jareth frowned. "I didn't crash land in your dream."

"Yeah, but you did bring the wind and all that theatrics," Sarah answered, wiggling her fingers to indicate not only the wind, but the clouds and glitter as well. "And now I'm stuck in this swimsuit without my pool!"

"The way I see it, there's no loss," Jareth answered. "This dream seems like a boring one, anyway." He glanced around. "I mean, really, Sarah. The _desert?_ Why would anyone dream of the desert?"

"Why would anyone dream of a poofy white ballroom dress and hair twice as big as one's head?" Sarah shot back.

"I don't know, why did you dream that?" Jareth asked, calmly.

"Um, because you drugged me with a peach!"

"Did I?" Jareth asked, innocently. "I seem to recall it was that dwarf—Higgle—that gave you the peach."

"Hoggle," Sarah corrected. "And don't play innocent with me. I'm not dumb, I know that you were behind the drugged peach."

"If I remember correctly, you enjoyed that dream. You danced, didn't you?"

"I also smashed it to smithereens with a chair."

Jareth pressed his lips together in a disapproving line, but then he smirked and said, "That was just a matter of bad timing, my dear."

Sarah rubbed her temple, annoyed. How'd she gotten to this conversation, anyway? Trying to argue with Jareth was quickly giving her a headache. She shouldn't have headaches in dreams; it seemed wrong, somehow.

She took a deep breath and said, "Why are you here, anyway? You've never visited my dreams before—neither have the goblins."

"Ah…it's more a matter of luck, really," Jareth said, conversationally. He glared at the goblins, who had been trying to sneak away. They quickly gave him sheepish grins and shuffled closer, abandoning their escape plans for the moment. "Goblins can walk in dreams—as can I. However, I've been barred from your dreams by those pesky words you said—"

"Pesky words?" Sarah frowned, then her eyes widened. "Oh, you mean 'you have no—'"

"Yes yes, we all remember _those _words, there's no need for a refresher course," Jareth muttered. He looked so disgruntled, Sarah couldn't help but smile. He almost looked like a petulant child. He smoothed his expression back to nonchalant interest—Sarah wasn't sure how he did that, but he managed—and continued, "Well, the goblins weren't similarly barred, so they were able to stumble into your dreams—or as you so aptly put it, crash land in them—quite by accident. I don't know how they found you, but by _them_ leaving _me_ a trail to follow, I was also similarly able to enter your dreams despite the words."

"So, like a convenient loop hole, then?"

"Something like that." Jareth smirked. "You don't look pleased to see me. But, it's been so long! We should catch up. I particularly want to know _everything _that's been happening in _your _life, Precious. It seems it's been long since we last talked."

Jareth openly ogled her in the bikini again. Sarah wasn't sure how to react; his lack of subtlety was almost refreshing, but also infuriating. She had the feeling that Jareth fancied himself a ladies' man.

_Oh, who am I kidding? With those killer eyes, he probably makes women swoon, _Sarah thought, and then added viciously, _Until he starts talking, that is. Remember, he's tricky!_

_I think he makes ladies swoon even after he starts talking, _a voice whispered in Sarah's mind. One that sounded suspiciously breathless. _After all, he's got an awesome accent._

Sarah pointedly ignored the voice. Instead, she gave herself a little pep talk—_I'm Sarah Williams! I fought my way to the Castle Beyond the Goblin City and saved my brother! And this is _my _dream!_—and decided that she'd take Jareth's challenge. She wasn't going to be cowed, enraged, or seduced by the Goblin King. Oh no, she'd show him a thing or two!

Sarah lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. She said, "Why talk about me when it seems _your _life is way more interesting?" And then, she stepped forward, closing the distance between them until she was only a foot or two away. A part of her was screaming that she was taking too big of a risk, but another part of her was yelling things like "You go girl!" and "This girl's bark is worse than her bite—and her bite's pretty damn bad!" and singing _These Boots are Made for Walking_, even though she was barefoot.

Jareth eyed her, surprised.

Sarah carefully looked Jareth over, giving him the same treatment he gave her, only longer and with a more critical eye. She'd never noticed this before—well, okay, she'd _sort of_ noticed it before, in a I'm-only-fifteen-and-can't-quite-put-my-finger-on-why-I'm-feeling-like-this sort of way—but the Goblin King had a certain… _je ne sais quoi_, definitely. After all, he wasn't traditionally handsome, or Hollywood handsome. His cheekbones were too angular, his lips too thin. His eyebrows swept up like bird's wings, and his eyes tilted like a cat's. He was lanky, although she suspected by the breadth of his shoulders and slimness of his waist that he had some sinewy muscle under the pale skin. His hair was glorious, but oddly styled, big and framing his face almost like a lion's mane, but the color was cornsilk blonde. Sarah's fingers began to itch with the desire to touch it, and she had to look away.

Despite all his oddness and otherworldly features—and despite the glitter, glam, and tight pants, or maybe _because_ of the tight pants—Jareth managed to pull it together and become handsome and masculine. Or, at least, striking; hypnotic; tempting.

_Oh boy, time to think about other things, _Sarah chastised herself even as her gaze slipped back to the hair. She didn't like that little self-satisfied smirk on Jareth's lips.

Something caught her eye, a bit of whiteness amongst the light blonde, and Sarah blinked before reaching toward Jareth's hair. The Goblin King stiffened, but he allowed Sarah to touch him. She barely felt the cool strands of hair as she untangled what had caught her eye—definitely not enough of a touch to satisfy the itch in her fingers, but she wasn't about to plunge her hands in that mane, might give the Goblin King the wrong idea. Instead, she grinned and brought a pure white chicken feather up between them.

"I remember you mentioning something about chickens?" she purred.

Jareth frowned and muttered something that sounded like "blasted poultry."

"I do believe your life is just _so _much more interesting than mine," Sarah repeated, letting the feather's tip trail along Jareth's shoulder. Damn, what was she doing? The dream was making her bold; she'd never do something like that in real life to the Goblin King.

_Really? Never? _That annoyingly breathless voice whispered in her mind.

"Hardly," Jareth said, taking a step back. His face was strangely blank, but there was a storm of emotions in his eyes, so intense and dark that Sarah couldn't decipher what emotions she was seeing. "If I had a vacation day for every time the goblins managed to mess things up with their blasted chickens, or their songs, or their _grog_…" Jareth shuddered, "…well, then, I'd probably never have to see another chicken again—or another goblin. I could spend my days…where do humans like to go when vacationing?"

"Uh, I don't know, Hawaii?" Sarah supplied.

"Yes, that will do. Hawaii. I could spend by days there. Do they have those coconut drinks with the little umbrellas?"

Sarah nodded. "I think so."

Jareth smiled, dreamily. "Excellent."

"So," Sarah asked, because now curiosity had gotten the better of her, "what happened today?"

Jareth scowled, then turned and stepped close to the edge of the canyon. Watching him, Sarah felt a bit of vertigo curl in her stomach. She stayed where she was, watching his profile as he looked across the Grand Canyon. His scowl was fierce.

Finally, he said, "Goblins and chickens, I'll never understand the appeal. But the goblins keep the damn poultry around almost…like a pet, I suppose. But even a benevolent monarch like myself gets tired of seeing chickens in his throne room, especially when they are constantly clucking, or worse, constantly underfoot. At least the goblins have learned how to keep out of my way when I'm walking, pacing, menacing, dancing, or threatening. Chickens have less brain cells than goblins, they just cluck away and seem to _purposefully_ get underfoot."

He turned and stomped a few steps back from the edge and then said, "So, I made a royal proclamation. No more chickens in the throne room!" He waved a hand, as if Sarah had been about to say something. "Oh, I would have let the chickens back, after a week or two. I know my subjects too well. Denying their chickens, even if just in the throne room, could very well lead to rebellion. I've already survived eight rebellions—two chicken-related, four because of a lack of boggings, one because of a particularly _unwashed_ sheep herder that was wished away, and you know it must be bad if the _goblins_ find him unwashed, and one because—" Jareth stopped suddenly, looking up as if he just remembered she was there, and cleared his throat. "Anyway, the goblins snuck the chickens back into the throne room when I was taking a nap—sitting there, on my throne! I woke up, well, surrounded by poultry—"

"One landed on his head!" Squibble supplied, who had sat cross-legged next to Thorny while the story was being told, cradling his head in his arms and listening with wide-eyed, rapt attention.

Sarah grinned, turning back to Jareth. "Did one really land on your head?"

Jareth scowled at Squibble, who had the decency to look sheepish. Finally, Jareth muttered, "Maybe."

Sarah's grin widened.

Jareth saw the grin and directed his scowl at Sarah, but it had less of an effect on her than Squibble. "The point is, I narrowed the chicken-smugglers down to those two. And I will bog them!"

Jareth whirled and to his surprise found the spot where the goblins had been only a moment before empty. He looked around, frowning, but couldn't spot them anywhere. "Run if you think you can, you imbeciles!" Jareth yelled. "I know where you live!"

Sarah noticed a bush in the thicket shuddered, and was glad Jareth didn't notice. She stepped up to Jareth and gently placed a hand on his arm. Jareth's attention was suddenly riveted on her, his eyes wide with surprise at the touch. She was a little surprised, too. The warring halves of her mind had quieted in shock, as if waiting to see what she'd do. She wished she knew.

She cleared her throat and said, "Don't bog them, Jareth."

Jareth raised his eyebrows. "I'm their king. They ignored a proclamation from their _king_."

"Yes, but they're only goblins. You know what they say," Sarah teased, lightly, "goblins will be goblins."

Jareth gave her an incredulous look. "I highly doubt _anyone _says that, regardless of its factuality."

"Just let them be," Sarah urged, "they didn't mean any harm."

"Why the sudden concern, Sarah?" Jareth asked, curiously. "You've been gone a decade from their lives, and believe you me, there have been boggings in the interim. Why care now?"

Sarah shifted, uncomfortably. Jareth hit on an ugly truth. She had been gone a decade, that was a decade of silence, when she hadn't even called on her friends as they had bid her at the end of her journey in the Underground. They had beseeched her, "if you ever have need for us…" and she had been too stubborn in _growing up_, in letting the silly little girl go, that she'd decided she didn't need to call on _anybody_. What right did she have to make demands ten years later?

But, they had walked into _her _dream.

Sarah smiled a bit sheepishly and said, "Well, I did pull thorns out of Thorny's butt. You get close to someone when you do that."

Jareth raised his eyebrows again. "Thorny?"

"The goblin with the big eyes."

"Dear lord, you _named_ him?" Jareth groaned. "Never name them, they'll visit you _forever_ now. He's probably gone to brag to all his friends already."

Sarah smiled. "Is that so bad?"

"I don't know, you tell me, Sarah. Do you want goblins in your life again, after a decade?"

"Why not?" Sarah answered, tipping her chin up stubbornly.

"And do you…?" Jareth stopped, shifted uncomfortably, and took a step back away from her touch. Sarah wondered what question he'd been about to ask, and what thought had made him abort it. But, then, he smiled rather villainously, which bothered Sarah enough that she frowned suspiciously. Jareth said, "So, I shouldn't bog your new friends, Squibble and…Thorny? Even though they ignored a royal proclamation? What will you give me for the boon, Sarah dearest?"

Sarah sucked in her breath, alarmed. "What?"

"Well, you want a _favor_, right? What will you barter for this favor?"

Sarah sighed. "Why can't you just give me this favor out of the kindness of your heart?"

"Kindness? Of my heart?" Jareth scoffed. "Unlikely, I'm the _Goblin King_. I don't show kindness and I'm pretty sure I don't have a heart."

Sarah rolled her eyes. She thought about what she could offer him. What could she give the Goblin King that wouldn't cost her too much? She glanced over at him. He looked practically incandescent with glee, no doubt luxuriating in the possibilities of what she might give him. Well, she definitely wasn't giving him _that, _and by the way he smirked, she decided she'd cross "a kiss" off the list, too. Not only did she loathe encouraging the smug bastard, she wasn't too sure she could handle a kiss from the Goblin King. Maybe in another dream—one where she wasn't wearing just a bikini and already conveniently barefoot.

Sarah had a sudden moment of inspiration and grinned, turning back to Jareth. "I have it," she said. "A free pass, for you. You can visit me _in my dreams,_ but," she added just as Jareth started grinning triumphantly, "_only_ the G-rated ones, and you must respect my boundaries. You can't keep me asleep, if I want to wake up, I can. You also can't muck about in my head or mess with my dreams without asking me first. In other words, what I'm dreaming is what you get, no more and no less. Agreed?"

"Ah, Precious, you've taken away all the _fun,_" Jareth said, his voice like velvet. "And did you say 'only the G-rated ones'? I'm not quite sure what that means."

Sarah cleared her throat and looked away. "Um…the…general audience ones. The ones without any…naughty bits…" She blushed. She couldn't believe he'd made her say that out loud!

Jareth grinned. "Well, that just creates so many _wonderful _questions," he said, again his voice smooth and silky.

Sarah shivered, but she said, firmly, "Questions I'm not going to answer, so don't even think about asking them. About the deal, are we agreed?" She held out her hand.

Jareth sighed. "Agreed." He shook her hand. Then, a slow, satisfied smile spread across his lips. "Not without your permission, hmm?" he said.

_Oh no, what have I done? _Sarah wondered, shivering again. She tugged her hand and luckily Jareth let her go. They stood, staring at each other. Jareth seemed to be sizing her up, like she was an opponent he was about to battle, although his face was expressionless so whatever conclusions he came to, she didn't know.

She had thought her choice was safe: take away any chance Jareth could mess with her dreams and it became just interesting banter with the Goblin King. And if he began to annoy her too much, well, she could always wake up. But, Sarah kind of liked this back-and-forth, even if Jareth was aggravating. This was, no doubt, the most interesting dream she'd had in a long while. Plus, she felt more alive than she had since…well, since she'd run the Labyrinth. There was something about Jareth that brought out the stubborn streak in her; something that made her want to defy and triumph. Something…okay, she decided to stop there before her thoughts became seedier, like "ogle his tight pants." The man wore such tight pants, who could resist a bit of ogling? He probably did it on purpose.

Maybe her choice wasn't all that safe. Maybe she really should have thought this out further.

While she'd been lost in her worries, Jareth had moved close to her. She jumped, squeaking a bit, when he suddenly reached out and took off her sunglasses. He looked at them thoughtfully, then casually flung them over the canyon's edge.

"Hey!" Sarah yelped as they disappeared from view. "I liked those!"

"Why? They were ridiculous."

"Exactly! I could never get away with it in real life!" Sarah squinted, shading her eyes from the sun. She wasn't sure when the clouds had disappeared, but they were gone now, although she noticed that the warm breeze from before was stronger now, strong enough to rustle Jareth's cloak dramatically. "And I notice you've conveniently gotten rid of the clouds. Now I'll have to squint."

A few fluffy, non-threatening clouds appeared, blocking out the sun.

"Thanks," Sarah said, grudgingly.

"Don't mention it, Precious." Jareth paused. "You know, you didn't tell me why the desert."

"I don't know." Sarah turned, looking out over Grand Canyon. "I'm sure Freud and any other dream analyst has some things to say, particularly about dreaming of a wide, deep, chasm. But, I prefer to think that this place has happy memories. It was the last family trip we made before my parents divorced." Sarah walked closer to the edge, not close enough to worry her vertigo, though. "And look at this view!—Ow!" She winced as a rock jabbed her foot painfully.

Jareth immediately walked to her side, letting her grab his arm for balance as she made sure the rock hadn't scored her flesh before nudging it away. She would have kicked it over the edge, but in her barefoot state, that would have only hurt more.

Jareth tsk-tsked. "Really, Sarah, your lack of proper attire for this locale leaves much to be desired. Why haven't you created some footwear for yourself?"

"I can't make things in dreams," Sarah muttered.

Jareth raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I can't!" Sarah sighed. "I don't actually lucid dream, you know. In lucid dreaming, you can change stuff, manipulate your dream. I can't do that. Oh, I _know_ I'm dreaming—I always know—and the dreams are always vivid and I always remember them, but I'm more like an audience member watching a play. No, that's not quite right, since I'm _in_ the play. I guess I'm like an actor following her lines? I can't change the way the play's written, but I know it's just a play…does this make sense?"

"Yes. But, Sarah, you _can_ manipulate it if you want, it just takes practice. Shall I show you?"

"Um…"

Jareth said, "All you must do is concentrate on your desire, make it the only thing in your mind, and give yourself _intent_. You _intend _to create something, and you _will_. Desire, intent, and action are all intricately linked in a dream." As he spoke, Jareth extended his hand and for one brief moment, Sarah was transported back ten years to a similar scene when Jareth was also wearing the black armor. Only then, he held in his outstretched hand a crystal.

_Nothing more, _she thought, her lips twitching with amusement. _Unless you turn it a certain way…_

Her thoughts were interrupted as something appeared in Jareth's hand: two black stilettos which he gripped by their heels. He smiled and offered her the shoes. "Your footwear."

"Jareth," Sarah said, dryly, "I am not wearing high heels with a swimsuit. I'm not some Sports Illustrated model. And I'm totally wise to what you're trying to do and you can forget it."

"Come, Sarah, I'm merely trying to save your feet any further threat from this rocky landscape."

"Of course, that's what you're _merely_ trying to do," Sarah said, sarcastically. "Forget it."

Jareth sighed and tossed the shoes over the canyon edge. Sarah winced. They'd looked like expensive shoes.

"Make your own, then, Precious," Jareth said, challengingly.

"Fine, I will," Sarah snapped. _Desire, intent, and action, huh? How hard could it be?_

She extended her hand as she'd seen Jareth do, then concentrated. _I want some comfy flip-flops. Comfy flip-flops. Comfy…flip-flops…_ Nothing, and she was pretty sure she was concentrating and desiring and intending and all that. She screwed her eyes shut, trying even harder to imagine those flip-flops.

When Jareth's voice whispered in her ear, "That's it, Precious," Sarah was not prepared and jumped with surprise. His voice was like liquid honey as he murmured, encouragingly, "Keep your mind on your _desire_. You want…and you _intend_ to have what you want…the world will bend to your will here; you shape your desires through your _actions, _because what you desire you _intend_ to make true. Everything can be laid at your feet. You have all the power here."

_I have all the power, _Sarah thought, shivering.

And suddenly, a weight was in her hands. She opened her eyes to see two blue flip-flops, which matched her floral swimsuit design. She smiled, triumphantly, as she slipped them on.

"Very good, Precious," Jareth said, smiling as he watched her.

Sarah looked up. "Thanks, Jareth."

"Whatever for? You were the one that accomplished it."

_In a way I was, since his voice was pretty distracting, if anything, _Sarah thought, remembering how his words glided over her skin like a caress. She cleared her throat and said, "You showed me the trick, so thanks."

Suddenly, the sky darkened and the ground rumbled. Sarah jumped, grabbing Jareth's arm. "What's happening?"

Jareth tsked. "You're waking up. Such a pity."

"I'm waking up? I've never dreamt something like this before!"

"Yes, well, I suppose my being in your dream makes you more aware of it."

Sarah squeaked as the ground shook again. Jareth took that moment to remove the iron grip she had on his arm and instead squeezed her hand. Sarah looked up and caught the mischievous glint in his eye. He grinned and said, "Don't forget your proposition."

Sarah groaned. "How could I? You'll stalk me in my dreams now, I guess."

Jareth stiffened, affronted. He didn't seem put off by the shaking or the darkness of the sky. Even the hues of the Grand Canyon had faded. He said, "'Stalk' is such a nasty word, Sarah, particularly when you _invited_ me. Anyway, the Goblin King does not _stalk_." He paused. "The Goblin King _visits_. I'll be visiting you very soon, Sarah…in your dreams, of course."

He leaned close, brushing his cheek against hers as he whispered in her ear, "Rise and shine, Precious."

And just like that, Sarah jerked awake. She looked around, seeing her familiar ceiling, her familiar bedroom, and light streaming through her familiar window. Leaning back against the pillows, she took a deep breath and muttered to herself, "So, did I just do something brave or something stupid?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>

Cordite Quill looks up from her laptop. "What? What?" She asked defensively. "I know it's a new story! Don't blame me, blame _her_!" She jerks a thumb over her shoulder, indicating the tiny pixie floating behind her. The pixie gives a devilish smile and puts on a pair of purple, lip-shaped glam sunglasses. "Darn muse keeps giving me ideas," CQ mutters, then she brightens. "On the plus side, this little story is charted out and I'm already almost done with the next chapter! It's a shorter one, too. Maybe six chapters altogether? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed chapter one. I had a lot of fun with the dream elements, and of course, the obligatory back-and-forth between Sarah and Jareth."

The pixie begins poking CQ in the head with a pencil. CQ hisses, "Will you hold on? I've got to finish the author's notes! Yeesh!" She turns away from the pixie and adds, "I've added a commentary section on my blog about this chapter, in case you're wondering things like what the dream elements mean or bloopers that didn't make it into the final cuts. Also, songs I listened to when writing. The dream symbolism provides hints as to what may happen, so instead of putting it here, I decided to put it on the blog. The link is on my profile page, if you're interested."

CQ sheepishly grins and adds, "And finally, the usual plea: let me know what you think! I'm really curious as this is a slight deviation from my normal type of writing style. I've just been so busy and writer block-y that I haven't written in a while and I feel my writing style may be changing again. Plus, this idea may be a little out there? I'm not sure. So please **read and review.** As always, suggestions, comments, questions are welcome and I try to reply to every one! Thank you for reading!"

CQ goes back to her laptop and the pixie goes back to poking her with a pencil.

* * *

><p><em>Disclaimer: Ugh, this are always so boring, so let's get it over quick, like a band-aid, shall we? I don't own anything in regards to the original Labyrinth. That means Sarah and, sadly, Jareth are beyond my reach. They are copyrighted by their original owners. My only claim is to my own, original characters. I suppose I should also stress that I have no money and quite a bit of debt. And this was written purely for non-profit fun. Please keep this fanfiction on this site; don't repost, alter, or copy it anywhere else without asking me first.<em>


	2. A is for Aardvark

**Chapter Two: A is for Aardvark**

Jareth lounged on his throne, grinning to himself. He'd had more fun in the last few hours than he could remember having in a long time, and all because he'd stumbled into Sarah Williams's dream. Sarah! Ah, she was better now than at fifteen—if that bikini was any indication. But, she still had that fire in her eyes and the stubbornness.

When Sarah had said those words, Jareth had thought that was it. He'd never see her again; a lifetime ban. He'd felt like someone had punched him in the gut when he realized he'd lost, and not simply because he'd lost—although that was traumatic enough—but because Sarah Williams had been the most interesting human to ever run the Labyrinth. She'd accepted all the strange creatures without a second's thought—even the Helping Hands and the Fireys—and she'd met each challenge that he'd presented. He'd glorified in trying to think up new challenges, although a part of him wondered why he hadn't made them more difficult. And that peach dream…Jareth smiled. Well, that had been pure indulgence. Just like last night, when he'd entered Sarah's dream, he'd changed it—the fact she noticed she was waking up was proof—and the same went for the peach dream. When he'd decided to enter the ballroom, the dream had been changed. But, he'd enjoyed it nonetheless; watching her make her way through the crowd, the dress, his own wardrobe replete with grandeur, and then the dance. It had all been perfect—except for that pesky chair at the end of it.

"Make a note, Kibble," Jareth said, wincing as he always did when he spoke the goblin's name. Maybe he should ban the goblins from naming themselves; they always chose the most ridiculous names—like Thorny. He eyed the goblin, Thorny, who was playing Solitaire with Squibble. They'd arrived back soon after the dream had dissolved, contrite and begging not to be bogged. In a moment of generosity, Jareth grudgingly said they would be spared _this once_. Wonderfully, the throne room was currently chicken-free. He'd managed to cow the goblins that much. He predicted it would last a day or two.

Shaking his head, he refocused on the task at hand. Kibble was sitting on the arm rest of the throne, crowded by the Goblin King's legs, which dangled over the arm. The goblin poised a nub of a pencil, the eraser already bitten off, over a small, yellow legal pad and waited.

"Make a note," Jareth repeated before saying, "in all future dreams, chairs shall be banned. No chairs!"

"Yes, Boss," Kibble said, diligently scribbling the note on the pad. "All chairs…what about sofas?"

Jareth snorted. "I doubt most people will be able to heft a sofa easily. Sofas can stay, plus they're handy pieces of furniture. You can do a lot on a sofa." Jareth grinned wickedly to himself.

"Sofas…okay…" Kibble murmured. His tongue peeked out from between his lips as he wrote. "Arm chairs?"

Jareth frowned. "I doubt arm chairs are easy to heft, as well…but just in case, no arm chairs."

"No arm chairs." Kibble tapped the pencil against his chin. "What 'bout ottomans, Boss? They can be thrown."

Jareth sighed and said, "Let's make this simple. No furniture that can be thrown in dreams, alright?"

Kibble's eyes widened. "No chickens?" he yelped.

All the goblins in the throne room stopped what they were doing and turned to look at Jareth with identical expressions of horror in their eyes. Jareth sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose, and said, "First of all, chickens are _not _furniture, second of all, there's currently a ban on chickens in the kingdom, so it doesn't matter anyway."

"But, if chickens ain't furniture, than they're not banned from dreams, right Boss?" Kibble asked.

"Correct."

The goblins sighed in relief. One said, "Oh, chickens are okay, good."

Another murmured, "No rebellion then?"

"Not yet. Meeting later."

Jareth said, "I can hear you."

The goblins whistled innocently.

Jareth leaned back in the throne. He'd survived five assassination attempts in his long reign as king. They weren't very well planned things, and they were done in the mood of boredom or anger than actual desire for a coup, and most of them involved non-lethal projectiles flying at his head or shins. Jareth wasn't too worried.

Jareth turned back to Kibble, noticed a smudge on his boot, and his lip curled. "Add to my To Do List, Kibble: have Higgle shine my boots."

"Higgle…shine…boots," Kibble said, his tiny, pink tongue sticking out from the corner of his mouth as he diligently scribed with his nub of a pencil. He bit the back of it, where the eraser used to be before it was ravaged away by teeth marks. He looked up at his monarch expectantly.

Jareth checked the large, grandfather clock in the throne room, wondered for the millionth time why he hadn't gotten rid of the thing, then realized it was nearly noon. He stretched and said, "What's first on the list, Kibble?"

"Wha?" Kibble said, the pencil back in his mouth, the yellowish, jagged teeth gnawing away as he gave Jareth an inquisitive look.

"The To Do List, Kibble," Jareth said, impatiently. "What's next on the list?"

"Oh, yes Boss…um…" Kibble looked at the pad of paper, scratching his head with the back of the pencil. "Um…" He turned the pad so that it was sideways. "Er, lessee…" He turned it so it was upside down.

"Kibble," Jareth said, sighing and rubbing his forehead. "Please tell me you can read your own handwriting."

"Oh yes, Boss! I can!"

"Oh, good…so why are you waiting? What's on the list?" Jareth rubbed his smudged boot on the back of his pant leg.

Kibble scratched his head again and said, "Um…dancin' and singin', then buy grog for the goblins, and let the chickens back."

Jareth straightened in his chair and raised an eyebrow. "Somehow, I heavily doubt that's what I told you to write, Kibble. Did you write what I _said?_"

"Oh yes, Boss Man!"

"Don't call me that," Jareth said, automatically, although he knew it was pointless. He'd been correcting the goblins—and a few other inhabitants of his realm—for years now to call him only "Your Majesty," but to no avail. If only he knew who had taught those goblins the phrase "Boss Man."

He reached over and plucked the pad from Kibble, ignoring how the goblin's eyes widened and the creature jumped for the pad, following it until he nearly fell off his perch. When he looked at the pad, Jareth felt annoyance sour through him like hot lava. He managed to keep his temper, barely, as he looked at the scribbled nonsense in front of him.

"What…what is this? 'Keppinchawagum'?" Jareth growled. There were other indecipherable gibberish strewn about the page. It looked like Kibble had just put random letters together. Jareth threw aside the pad and leaned forward, glaring at Kibble. "I remember spending a good amount of my time trying to teach you fellows literacy! Did you even read the book I gave you?"

"Sorta, Boss Man," Kibble squeaked.

"Sort of? _Sort of?_"

"We was gonna read the whole thing, honest," Thorny said, running off to a nearby pile of goblin junk and digging around inside.

_Another thing to add to my To Do List—which will have to be mental right now—is make the goblins clean away their junk, _Jareth thought.

Thorny brought back a creased, slightly greasy, thin book with a grog stain on the cover. He held it up for Jareth to see that, yes, it was indeed the book he'd ordered them to read and study. _A is for Aardvark_.

"Yes, that book," Jareth confirmed. "Did you read it? You abused it, I can see."

"Oh no, Boss Man," Squibble piped up as he glanced at Thorny's abandoned cards. "We didn' do nothin' bad to the book. We _love_ that book, 'cause of the aardvark."

"Couldn't get past the aardvark," Kibble admitted, "the aardvark was best."

"The aardvark is only for A, the first letter. There are twenty-five more to go. Are you saying the only word you can spell is aardvark?" Jareth sighed. "At least it's a difficult word."

"Well, yes, we wanna know how to spell aardvark and what aardvark looks like," Squibble said, conversationally as he took a card from Thorny's pile.

Jareth nodded, then paused as the words finally sunk in. He had been about to storm and rage at those useless goblins. All that effort to teach them and then they ignored the independent study. However, he instead said, "What do you mean 'what aardvark looks like'?"

"We wanted to see one!" Thorny said, flipping the book to the first page and pointing to the aardvark that was illustrated in a cartoonish style with a beret and a wide smile.

"And you ignored that first impulse as unadvisable and troublesome?" Jareth said, hopefully.

The goblins blinked at him as if he'd just spoken Malaysian. Thorny snorted and said, "No way!"

"Of course not," Jareth sighed.

"We got an aardvark, but it didn' have the hat or smile," Squibble said, sadly, as he put one of his cards in Thorny's pile.

"You got an aardvark?" Jareth asked, feeling his jaw tighten, as well as the muscles of his shoulders. Dread welled up within him.

"Want to see?" Kibble asked, excited.

"Oh yes," Jareth said, through gritted teeth.

A few of the goblins, including Thorny, scampered out of the throne room. Jareth counted the minutes he waited, looking at the grandfather clock. It took five minutes before the goblins swarmed back to the throne room, leading an aardvark on a leash made of rainbow colored yarn tied around the aardvark's midriff.

Jareth groaned when he saw that, yes indeed, the goblins had found a new pet. Was this better or worse than chickens?

"_Why?_" Jareth said.

"So cute!" Kibble answered from his perch on the throne. He rocked back and forth, grinning as he watched the aardvark. "He got a long tongue, Monty has. He likes bugs."

"_Monty_? You named the aardvark? And it's a normal name?" Jareth's eyebrows rose.

The goblins brought the creature close, although they were wise enough to keep it far enough that it couldn't accidently brush against Jareth's boots. While Jareth knew what aardvarks looked like—he'd read the alphabet book before giving it to his goblins—he'd never seen one up-close before. There was no reason to, after all. He dealt with wishes, dreams, and humans. Well, and goblins, and fireys, and dwarves, and rock-creature-monsters, and fairies, and…actually, now that he thought of it, he wasn't surprised there was an aardvark in front of him. He was surprised this kind of thing hadn't happened _sooner_. He was just glad he hadn't taken one of the other books from that book depository, the one with the lions in front of it. He'd thought _Where the Wild Things Are _had been particularly amusing. Just imagining the goblins looking for _those_ creatures caused Jareth to shudder.

The aardvark was covered in chestnut brown fur, with long clawed feet, a pointy tail, long ears, and, of course, a long face which ended with a snout. In fact, it looked vaguely pig-like. Jareth's lip curled distastefully.

Monty looked back at Jareth, and then a pink tongue casually appeared from the animal's mouth and tasted the air.

"Aaaaw!" the goblins cooed.

"There's no need for an aardvark in the Underground!" Jareth said. "And you fellows should not have a pet! Who will clean up after this…this…?"

"Monty?" Kibble said helpfully.

"Fine, who will clean up after _Monty_? Who will feed it?"

"I will!" Five goblins said at the same time.

"Uh-huh," Jareth said, skeptically. "I've already seen how you care for the chickens…"

Suddenly, a thought struck Jareth and he smirked. Leaning back, he pretended to pinch a bit of lint off his shirt. "Do you know what aardvarks eat?"

"Bugs," Kibble said.

_Well, give them props for knowing that much, _Jareth thought.

"Right, but do you know the special thing aardvarks like to eat? Their very special preference for dessert?"

The goblins shook their heads and crept closer to listen, their wide eyes innocently watching Jareth. It almost made him feel guilty for lying—_almost, _except that he needed his peace and quiet. He could just imagine that aardvark licking along his castle's mortar and stones, seeking ants and whatever else the creature ate; another thing to trip over, besides the goblins and chickens. No, there was no harm in _white _lies, if it meant his sanity.

"Chickens," Jareth said, softly.

"No!" the goblins gasped.

"Oh yes, _quite_ the aardvark delicacy, chickens are, just like humans eat chicken all the time." _I would too, if it didn't equal a coup every time I have a nice chicken dinner._ "That aardvark may just _slurp_ your chickens right up."

"_No!_" the goblins yelped, looking at Monty with fresh, distrustful eyes.

"Now, the only thing to do," Jareth said, his voice soothing and reasonable, "is set Monty free back where his home is—"

"Africa," Kibble supplied.

Jareth paused, frowning at the tiny goblin. "You really did your research for this one," Jareth murmured, "I'm impressed."

Kibble beamed.

"Better than the time you said all worms came from Tijuana, and insisted on trekking around the place to find choice worms for your fowl friends, until I pointed out that there's a difference between worms and _tequila worms_." Jareth smirked at that particular memory. Tijuana hadn't been a complete waste of time. There'd been beaches, and he'd managed to tempt a drunken frat boy into wishing away one of his frat "brothers." Watching the drunken frat boy then try to navigate the Labyrinth had provided a few hours of amusement, until he'd been sick all over Jareth's favorite oubliette. That hadn't been pleasant; he'd thought he'd never get the place clean again. Then the wished away frat member had been sick all over the throne room and Jareth had decided to send them both back, with a week's supply of pink stomach medicine. _And people don't think I'm generous._

Jareth pulled himself out of memories and back to the present, focusing on the goblins that were now eyeing Monty very uncertainly. "So," he finished, "why not take your guest back to Africa and let Monty roam the Sahara—or wherever he comes from—to his heart's desire, looking for his own chickens and bugs and what-not?"

"But Monty's our friend!" a goblin wailed. He hugged the aardvark, who seemed unimpressed by the show of affection.

"But he eats chickens," Jareth said in his reasonable voice.

"But…friend!" the goblin wailed again.

Jareth sighed. "He'll be happier free in Africa, and your chickens will be safe. Really, this is the best solution, fellows."

The goblins sniffled, but they nodded and began leading Monty away. Jareth watched until the aardvark left the throne room. Kibble jumped down from the arm chair and trailed after them, sniffling like everyone else at the thought of losing their new pet. After centuries with the goblins, Jareth's heart wasn't moved by the display. He knew that the goblins would find something new and shiny to fixate on; they'd forget about the aardvark pretty quickly.

Jareth exhaled in relief, finally alone. He glanced at the abandoned To Do List on the floor and curled his upper lip. Maybe goblins couldn't be taught literacy. He picked up the alphabet book and flipped through it, aimlessly.

He paused on G, which showed a studious young boy staring at a book with a determined expression, his lower lip curling out slightly, and a pair of large glasses balanced on his nose. Underneath, in a large font, it said: _G is for Glasses, which help you read._

But, the image that came to Jareth's mind was purple glam sunglasses, lip-shaped, of course. Although he'd called them ridiculous, and tossed them off the Grand Canyon, Jareth had found them amusing. What had Sarah grown into? Was she still the girl he had spied ten years ago reciting lines from plays in a park with only a dog for company?

He'd tossed the sunglasses because he'd wanted to see Sarah's eyes. They'd been deep, forest green just like he remembered; crystal clear, there was nothing hiding in their depths. He'd felt a moment of relief, because although she was older and, yes, that did reflect in her eyes—the added years of experience made their depths faceted, rounded, _deeper_ in ways they hadn't been before—he hadn't seen anything _sorrowful_. Not truly sorrowful, anyway; nothing that suggested a painful life. He was glad, he realized. Glad that Sarah Williams, who'd defeated him, hadn't suffered unduly afterwards. Humans sometimes suffered, Jareth had found. He didn't get frat boys often—actually, nowadays he didn't get many people at all—but in the old days, when people readily believed in magic, he'd found himself dealing with poor humans, barely able to feed themselves let alone another mouth. Children were often wished away because of _desperation, _not selfishness. Jareth knew that mortality and the life Above could be a tragic thing, indeed.

He was glad Sarah hadn't suffered anything truly horrible like that, something that took away the gleam from a person's eye.

Jareth shook his head and shut the book, tossing it on a nearby end table. He glanced at the grandfather clock, then stopped himself when he realized he was looking forward to seeing Sarah. He snorted. _Am I really that bored with being King?_

_Yes, _came the soft whisper at the back of his mind. _Because nobody's been wished away recently, the aardvark incident—and the chicken incidents—are what keep you busy. You're ready for something different, something that doesn't feel like babysitting goblins._

"Touché," Jareth muttered, then he grinned. "I wonder if I can make Sarah say 'it's not fair' again?"

# # # #

Sarah sighed, bored, as she entered customer information into her database. She hated this job more than she hated the office receptionist position, she decided for perhaps the fifteenth time that month. She'd left the receptionist position because this company offered a better salary and the promise of a raise in nine months—there was a lot of turn-over, in all the company's departments.

The company boasted that all employees had the chance to move out of billing and into customer service within the first year. While that gave a pay raise, Sarah actually wanted to stay in this department, which handled the data entry aspect. It was a small department, unlike customer service, which actually had to deal with people calling regarding their bills. Sarah had heard people cried and begged; she couldn't deal with that kind of thing.

Actually, what she really wanted to do was work in theater—she hadn't gotten that dual media arts and theater degree for nothing, and then even gone back for a certification in education. But, drama positions in schools were scarce and scarcer in the community venues. She hadn't found anything yet. So, instead, she was doing what she needed to get by.

But, boy did she hate her job right now. It was so _boring_. Sarah idly shook the snow globe of the Grand Canyon that she kept by her computer monitor and stared outside the window. She had a cubicle near the window, and she could stare out at the greenery outside.

"Sarah?"

Sarah whirled around, immediately feeling guilty for being caught daydreaming, like she'd done when she'd still been in school. "Yes, Ms. Tucker?"

"You're reaching your overtime limit," Ms. Tucker said, "so I'm authorizing you to go home early today."

Sarah smiled. "Fine, Ms. Tucker. Thank you."

While Sarah hated her job, she also believed in doing it as well as she could. Yes, it was boring, but she got all her data entered _correctly _and _quickly_. She'd been told she was one of the most productive members of the data entry department. However, that also meant when she hit her weekly hour limit, she was told to go home. Sarah didn't mind; it meant she often didn't work or went home early on Fridays. It gave her more time at the community youth theater where she volunteered, teaching kids about drama and theater, doing fun theater related activities, and helping them rehearse for plays. It was the bright spot in her week.

She didn't currently have a boyfriend, although one of the other volunteers definitely seemed interested. She was considering encouraging that, she was sick of her dry spell, and the fact she could be a theater geek with him was a bonus. Her family was in the next state over, and Sarah had never been good at making close friends. She definitely felt lonely, sometimes.

Sarah spent the afternoon at the youth theater. The youngest group, the 6-8 ages, were there today and she laughed with them and helped them with their rehearsal of _Jack and the Beanstalk_. There'd been a few parts added, so each child could do something in the play, and now it was more like _Jack and His Friends and the Beanstalk_. There were only a few weeks until the play would be performed for parents. Although Sarah was confident that everything would go well, she was also nervous. She'd never been in charge of a production before, and although this was too small to be considered a "production," mostly just an activity for the children, she still had worked very hard on it.

Sarah wrapped her scarf around her shoulders and pulled on her fuzzy, wool hat. She was just sliding on her coat, her gloves held in her mouth, when someone said, "Heading off?"

Sarah looked up and tried to smile at Clark, then remembered the gloves. Clark, one of the other volunteers at the youth theater, obligingly took the gloves from Sarah's mouth and held them for her as she shrugged on her coat.

"Yeah, my shift is over. Are you just starting?" Sarah held out a hand.

Clark nodded, giving her the gloves. "Been a while since we've been on the same shift, huh?"

"Yeah, you've been coming in later. The kids miss you."

"I miss them. The younger ones are easier to work with than the teenagers." Clark made a face and Sarah smirked. "But, my work schedule's all messed up for a while. Anyway, how are you doing, Sarah?"

"Oh, just fine." Sarah pulled on the gloves. "Work is work. I wish I could quit that job and just work here, but they never have enough money to hire another person."

"I always say they should hire you."

Their conversation ebbed there, and Sarah stood in front of Clark quietly. He shifted nervously, opening his mouth as if to say something, then closing it and merely giving her an awkward look, like a drowning fish. In some ways, it was amusing, although Sarah tried not to be amused. Clark was a nice guy, good looking in a plain and dependable sort of way. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and a nice smile. But, he was too timid for her; conversations always lagged and he never tried anything productive, like asking her out or something. She hadn't decided yet if she was going to encourage him, or even just ask him out herself.

Sarah smiled. "Well, see you, Clark."

"'Bye Sarah," he murmured.

Sarah left, wincing at the cold blast of air as soon as she stepped outside. She hurried down the sidewalk to where she'd parked the car, wondering why it had to be so damn cold in autumn. She put the heat on when she turned the key in the ignition, then drove home.

Her apartment was on the fifth floor. She took the elevator up, unlocked the door—and walked in just in time to see Squibble eat the leftover roast chicken she'd been saving to make into sandwiches for tonight's dinner. Sarah yelped and tossed her purse onto the floor, rushing to the kitchen nook. It was U-shaped with the refrigerator facing the living room. She grabbed the fridge door and said, "What are you _doing?_"

"Hungry," Squibble said around the chicken in his mouth.

Thorny was taking the deli cheese and eating it slice-by-slice—and he didn't remove the tissues between the slices, either. Sarah grabbed the cheese baggie from his fingers, jamming it back into the fridge. Another goblin with a bulbous, worty nose and blue-green skin was licking up a puddle of orange juice from the floor, the empty carton a foot away. The other goblins were munching on other items from her fridge—grapes, a raw egg, milk—but had been smart enough to back away. Instead they were clustered around…

Sarah pointed. "Is that an _anteater?_"

"Aardvark," one of the goblins supplied.

"What…who…why…" Sarah stammered, then she took a deep, calming breath, and focused on the first question. "_Why _are you guys here with an aardvark?"

"'Cause we got to get rid o'it," one of the goblins said, sadly. "It eats chickens."

"Aardvarks eat chickens?" Sarah frowned. "That doesn't seem right…"

"Boss Man said it did," Squibble said, solemnly, licking his fingers.

"Boss Man…Jareth? Jareth told you that aardvarks eat chickens?" Sarah looked at the way the goblins clustered around the creature, petting its flank, looking sorrowfully at her, and she suddenly had a guess why Jareth would tell the goblins that kind of lie. Briefly, she wondered if she should continue the ruse.

"Aardvarks _do _eat chickens, don't they, Lady?" Thorny asked, looking at her with eyes that suddenly seemed larger and more puppy-dog-ish.

Well damn, now she'd feel like a horrible person if she lied to them. The goblins, or Thorny at least, were perceptive. They were already wondering if perhaps their king had told them a fib simply by her hesitant words.

Sarah sighed and pointed at the aardvark snout. "I think Jareth's wrong. See its long nose and tiny mouth? That's made for eating small things, like insects, not big things like chickens."

"But King said it, and he knows," one of the goblins said, matter-a-factly.

Sarah smiled. "He can't know everything."

"He the king," Squibble said, as if such logic was obvious.

"Right, but he made a mistake about the aardvark. I know because…well, aardvarks are from Aboveground, after all. I _should _know."

The goblins shifted, thoughtfully. "Makes sense," Squibble said. "Kingy wouldn't know everything about _Aboveground, _he doesn't go much nowadays. Are aardvarks new?"

"I—I don't know." What counted as "new," after all?

Thorny nodded, thinking out Sarah's answer, and said, "Lady would know 'bout Aboveground 'cause she lives here."

"Exactly!" Sarah smiled.

"You know what would be really handy? If Kingy and Sarah lived together, then one could know stuff about Aboveground and one would know stuff about Underground," the blue-green goblin said.

Sarah's smile faltered. "Um…"

"Good idea, Kibble!"

_Kibble?_ Sarah shook her head. Now was the time to change the subject, quickly. "Guys, why do you have an aardvark?"

"Oh, aardvark's name is Monty. He's our friend, he stays with us," Kibble said, with excitement.

The other goblins chimed in, going into detail about how they'd read some book with an aardvark picture in it, then they'd become curious as to whether the creatures were real so they'd gone hunting in Africa for one. Monty was the first they could catch. Their first attempt had been met with ferocious claws; one of the goblins still had the scars. He'd proclaimed all aardvarks enemies and refused to go anywhere near Monty, so he was back at the castle celebrating Monty's departure.

Sarah half listened. Her mind was still amused by the goblin's innocent words about her and Jareth living together. In some ways, the goblins reminded her of the kids at the youth theater, particularly the younger ones. Yes, the goblins were probably older—how long did a goblin live, anyway?—but, that childlike innocence and naiveté was the same. When she looked at the goblins in that light, they seemed almost…cute. She forgave them for eating half her refrigerator's contents.

"But, since aardvarks don't eat chickens, we don't haveta put Monty back in Africa!" Kibble said, excitedly. "Right Lady?"

Sarah blinked, coming out of her thoughts. "What?"

"We can take Monty back to the castle!" Thorny said, happily.

_Uh-oh._ Sarah had a feeling that if Jareth was against chickens, he'd _definitely _dislike an aardvark running around. Could she really blame him? If she had a castle, she wouldn't want strange mammals in it, either.

And what would Jareth do if he found out _she'd _been the reason the goblins brought Monty back? Besides, looking at the poor creature, she was pretty sure it didn't belong with the goblins, either. Even if it did look strangely placid; something having to do with the long nose and beady eyes. Was it smiling or was that her imagination?

Sarah shook her head. "Guys, you need to send it back to its natural habitat."

"Natural wha?" Kibble frowned and the goblins fell quiet in confusion.

"Where it's supposed to live," Sarah answered. "Its home is Africa, not the Underground. I'm sure Monty has family in Africa it misses."

"Monty is a _he,_" one of the goblins said.

"Oh, um, _he_ should be home with his family. Would you like it if someone took you away from Jareth? Or the Underground?"

"No," the goblins said, in unison, shifting guiltily.

Kibble pouted. "But…but we wouldn't mind a vacation! Monty is on vacation!"

Sarah thought desperately, then blurted out, "Yes, but what if someone took the chickens away? Even for a week, even if they said 'just for a vacation'? Wouldn't you miss them?"

Kibble's eyes widened. "Yes."

"Well, that's how Monty feels. He's been taken away and he misses his chic—I mean, his family. You understand, right guys? You need to take him back home."

Kibble sighed, petting Monty's flank. "Yeah, we guess."

"We should take him back to Africa," Squibble confirmed, nodding sagely. "Lady wise."

"Oh, thanks." Sarah smiled. "And because you guys are being so mature—"

"What's mature?" Thorny asked.

"Grown up—"

"_Eeew_!" the goblins cried, shaking their heads. One goblin continued, "Grown-ups always wish away their kids! _Eeew!_ We're not grown-ups, we're _goblins_."

"Right, right. Sorry. Um, how about just 'understanding' then?" When that didn't meet with any protests, Sarah continued, "Since you guys are being so _understanding_ about this, I'll overlook the fact you ate most my food. But, guys, in the future you _must _ask me before you eat anything, alright? It's very rude to eat someone's food without asking, and if you're going to be rude, then I can't let you visit. Do you want to visit?"

"Yes!" the goblins squealed.

"I want you guys to visit, too." And when Sarah realized the words were true, she smiled. "So, you can't do rude things, okay?"

"Okay," they said, again in unison, hanging their heads with contrition.

"I'm glad you visited today, though," Sarah said, causing them to look up and beam smiles at her, "but now you need to get Monty back to Africa and I need to figure out what I'm having for dinner. I'll see you guys another day, okay?"

"Okay, bye Lady," they said as they began filing towards her pantry door. Kibble opened it and one by one, the goblins went inside. At the end, Squibble led Monty by a leash constructed of rainbow colored yarn. When they had entered the pantry, Kibble dashed inside with a final goodbye and shut the door.

"They really _do_ love chickens," Sarah muttered, shaking her head. She quickly walked over to the pantry, yanking it back open and peeked inside. Everything looked in order. Her food was still there, but the goblins and the aardvark weren't.

"Huh," Sarah said, looking around. Spotting a jar of spaghetti sauce and pasta, she grabbed both and closed the door.

After dinner, she watched a movie, then brushed her teeth and turned in for the night. As she lay in bed, butterflies suddenly hatched in her stomach. Would she dream tonight? And if she did, would Jareth be there? She'd given him the freedom to visit her, but would he do it? And why was part of her hoping he would?

She sighed, closing her eyes tight. The last thing she needed was to stay awake all night wondering if she was going to dream. But, thoughts of Jareth, of talking to him, and apprehension of talking to him _again_, kept intruding. It was a very long time before Sarah finally drifted off to sleep.

When Sarah opened her eyes, she knew she was dreaming. She was sitting on a burgundy sofa…in the middle of a jungle. She could feel the warm humidity, hear the noises of birds, smell the moisture.

And sitting next to her was the Goblin King.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>I hope this chapter wasn't boring. I wanted to show "a day in the life of..." kind of stuff, and intermix reality with the dreams. Plus this stuff comes in important later on in small (but big) ways. Anyway, the next chapter will deal entirely with Sarah's dream, which will be a pretty long one, I think. Let me know what you think. Found it interesting or boring? Liked the dream stuff better? If anyone can get the reference for Sarah's dream, as I used something for inspiration, then you get a giant cookie. It'll become clearer in the next chapter. :)

**Please do read and review!** I love hearing from all of you, it really helps me with this whole writing thing, especially since lately I've felt like I'm getting back on the writing bicycle, since I've been so busy and writing so erratically. All suggestions/comments/questions welcomed. You'll hear a reply from me. :)

**A few shout-outs:**

**_janeitesarah:_** I'm glad you liked the last chapter and found Thorny's misguided name amusing! Jareth may be onto something to forbid goblins to name themselves. :P As for Squibble's name, I _thought_ I'd heard it somewhere, but I completely forgot it was in My Fine Feathered Friend. Darn, I thought I was being original. It's hard to name goblins! I will simply dedicate Squibble to Lixxle, and her excellent writing skills and wonderful stories, since I don't want to change Squibble's name now.

**_DefyMe:_** Thank you for the compliments! I originally got the idea of this story by imagining Sarah doing "something ridiculous" and as I thought about it, the sunglasses came into mind. I doubt they'd be quite her style, more like something she'd _secretly_ love to get away with. Hopefully, each dream will bring something different but adequately odd/surreal/funny/bizarre/light-hearted to the story. :)

**_futrCSI1490:_** Oh, Jareth will definitely have fun with this, but I think he's also going to realize he may have underestimated Sarah (and her imagination) _again_. :D

**_VampireMafiaQueen:_** I know, I took too long of a writing break there, didn't I? Now I feel all unsure of myself. Writing isn't exactly like riding a bicycle, I find, when you take long breaks. There's a definite "warm-up" period and I'm wondering if my writing is suffering from it. But I'm glad to be back and glad you're enjoying the story! I needed something a bit more lighthearted, hence the Playful/Trickster!Jareth instead of Dark!Jareth or Mysterious!Jareth. :D

**_arillya13: _**I really enjoy writing the dream sequences because I can think things like, "Well, that's just weird...now how do I _really_ push the envelope and make it _even more_ weird?" XD Glad you're enjoying the story!

_**Noreasona: **_Any reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. :D I admit I took a long break; life got busy, I had other projects, then writer's block, but I'm trying to get back into the habit of writing often and a lot. Hopefully also writing _worthwhile_ things, too. I'm glad you're liking the story and I'll try not to take such long breaks. :3

**_Merlinswit:_** Glad you like the story! But, not sure what you mean by "finish the Christmas dinner story." I did finish State of Mind some months ago. Hope you check it out. :)

Thank you again for all the kind reviews!

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><p><em>Disclaimer: I don't own anything in regards to the Labyrinth except for my own original characters. This is a non-profit work of fiction posted for amusement and enjoyment. Please do not repost, alter, or copy this work without permission from me beforehand. Thank you.<em>


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